


Cross My Heart

by Doveheart



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Clothing Kink, Complete, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Just Everything Really, More kinks as it goes, Oneshot collection, Pegging, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doveheart/pseuds/Doveheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let your colors bleed and blend with mine. </p><p>A bunch of Papalymo/Yda smut one-shots. Anywhere from vague to explicit. Probably will toss all my new porn in here instead because I write a lot of it and stand-alones make clutter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thancred slept with a lot of women, that was no surprise. Usually he would take them to different inns or taverns. But, since the move of their headquarters into the back of a bar, Thancred usually couldn't make it much farther than to his own room.

Which was directly in between both Yda's and Papalymo's.

It was very late, or very early, Papalymo didn't know which but the loud moans and other noises had been carrying on for a while already. It had awoke him from his sleep and at first he tried to bang on the wall but Thancred was obviously much more intoxicated than usual. Now, defeated, Papalymo simply laid in bed with a pillow pulled tightly over his head. He didn't hear the knock at his door but when the light leaked into the room from the open door, he jumped.

Yda looked just as tired as he felt and she was lucky she would get a mask to hide the bags under her eyes.

“Yda? What do you want?” His voice was stern but that was expected when he was more than a little irritated.

She didn't reply right away just crawled into bed with him. She scooted him to the side and grabbed a handful of blankets from him.

“Can't sleep with all that noise,” she mumbled, curling up next to him. “Figured you couldn't either.”

“So you come into my room?”

A loud squeal prevented her from replying. A deep groan followed. Yda yawned. She grabbed him and pulled him close to her chest.

“Might as well suffer together,” she giggled. Papalymo didn't find it very funny. Usually Thancred was careful and although he led on a lot of woman, he usually didn't sleep with that many. He worried something had gone wrong for the lad to be acting this brazenly.

“Why do you think—”

Yda didn't let him finish, “Someone turned him down again yesterday.”

Papalymo frowned. “But then why—”

She sat up on her elbows, halfway on top of him. “To make her jealous, Papalymo,” she watched the realization set in and then when he opened his mouth she continued, “No. It probably won't work. But he won't remember it anyway with how much he's had to drink. But then again, he shouldn't have challenged Moen to that drinking contest earlier.”

“Is that _why_ he challenged her?”

“Or to flirt with the bartender.”

Papalymo rolled his eyes and another loud round of moans came from the next room. Yda seemed to glare at the wall for a second and then turned her attention back to the lalafell under her.

“You know. They could cover up any other sound.”

“What?” he looked at her, dumbfounded. He jerked when he feels the tips of her fingers on his skin. His shirt had ridden up and she slowly dragged her fingertips across his hip bone just above the hem of his pants. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode.

“You can say no,” She whispered, pulling her hand back with a chuckle. She rubbed her nose against his. The sounds next door picked up again and now it sounded like the bed was hitting the wall. Papalymo groaned and shut his eyes. He grabbed Yda's hand and pulled her so their lips met.

“Only because they're _so loud_.”

She laughed, returning the kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and her fingers found their way under his shirt. He shuddered at her touch and managed to get her out of her night shirt before she distracted him too much. She returned the favor and tugged of his shirt. They both let their hands explore each other and they would be lying if they said it hadn't been forever. Papalymo pushed Yda carefully and she rolled over onto her back so he could crawl on top of her. He straddled her hips and dipped his head down to lick her neck.

The sounds in the other room drowned out any noise Yda made and that just doesn't sit well with Papalymo. He bit at the junction between her shoulder and neck exceptionally hard and it drew a loud hiss from her but it was still barely heard. He busied his hands with her breasts, cupping them carefully and rolling a nipple between his fingers. She was panting and writhing beneath him already because Yda was never the patient type. It made him harden and he was thankful for the distraction from the obnoxious noises from the next room.

Yda's voice was growing louder — more daring, like a challenge to their neighbors. It made Papalymo chuckle because he knew she was doing it on purpose. Yda was dastardly, and he loved it. He dug his nails into her hips to keep her still and pulled down her pants. She kicked them off and to the side. Papalymo let his hands tease the inside of her thighs and they were already sticky. His fingers fluttered against the skin, but never really putting any pressure to where she wanted. She whined loudly and tossed her head back. He knew she could turn the tables if she wanted, but Yda loved to be teased. Her kept her hips down so that he could slide two fingers inside of her. He curled them and thrust. Her back arched off the bed and his nails broke the skin on her hip trying to hold her down.

The noises next door were becoming louder and more erratic, signally that the noises that they were using for cover would some come to an end. Papalymo growled, he hated being rushed, especially when it had been so long. Yda met his eyes and nodded eagerly. He tossed his pants somewhere to the side to join hers and then keeled between her legs. He entered her slowly, savoring the feeling because neither of them knew when they would have a chance to do this again. Yda let out a long moan and Papalymo bit his lip.

“You can be loud too,” Yda murmured. He opened his eyes to look at her and the sight alone left him breathless. Papalymo grabbed her thighs to pull her legs up. It made her clench around him and he hissed. He started to thrust into her with vigor. The sounds from the other room had faded into background noise and all he could hear was Yda and himself. Neither of them were quiet anymore. The sound of their skin slapping roughly against each other could easily be played off as part of Thancred's antics. He wanted her to say his name — he wanted to say _her_ name. They didn't; that was too risky. Instead they just groaned and whined like animals. Papalymo was rougher than usual, hanging onto every hiss and gasp he could pull out of Yda's throat. Two could play at that game, though, and Yda concentrated on clenching around him to hear him curse.

They both knew they were running out to time before their neighbors were finished. The banging of the bed against the wall had stopped and the moans were quieting down. Papalymo picked up his pace and he wouldn't last much longer either. Yda's body was tight and high-strung but he managed to get his hand between them to find her swollen clit. She moaned, twitching around him and he was starting to see stars. It was a few more trusts and then Papalymo couldn't hold it. He grunted and pulled out just in time to spill himself across her stomach. She followed with a drawn-out moan, her back arching off the bed. They laid in silence, just catching their breath for a few moments and then a bang came from the wall.

“Keep it down, will ya?” Thancred's voice was slurred and groggy.

Papalymo's eyes widened in horror and Yda giggled.

“He won't remember anything in the morning,” she gave him a kiss on the neck, pulling the blankets over them. “Hopefully.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Yda forgets she is Garlean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what Garlean third eyes do but what if they can project memories or thoughts into the mind of whoever is touching it. Kind of like the Echo. What if I manage to make something completely innocent into something dirty. I'm good at that.

Yda and Papalymo had a ritual on slow nights, no matter where they were. Papalymo always had a tome that needed studying but Yda always wants to be involved somehow. So they make a compromise after they've changed into their sleeping clothes and Yda has tossed her mask and bandanna somewhere _(he can't understand how she manages to find anything when she is so careless like that)_. Papalymo finds himself curled up in Yda's lap with his full attention on his notes. Yda leans over him, their foreheads usually pushed together. She will usually read along with him silently, or more often, fall asleep. Papalymo does not mind so long as she let's him be.

But tonight, Yda is distracted. Her mind is racing and busy. She tries to concentrate on the words on the volume Papalymo has in his lap but all she can focus on is _him_. Papalymo smells like ink and pine needles. He smells like the Twelveswood and Yda realizes she misses it — so much better than the endless deserts she's used to. His hair is fresh and still slightly damp from his bath and she wants to play with it, run her hands through it. Pull it. She can see him lick his finger as he turns a page and his lips glisten in the lamplight. She wants to kiss him — bite his lips until they bleed. Tonight, Papalymo is driving her insane. She lets her eyes fall shut and her mind wander.

Yda likes Papalymo. A lot. Not in a way that she could really explain to anyone but their relationship was the perfect storm. She never really wanted to date or get married, even now, but she loves the closeness he allows. She wants to intertwine their fingers but she holds back. Papalymo doesn't like it when she distracts him.

There is a warmness in her and she shifts ever so slightly. Their heads are still pressed together and she opens her eyes to glance at him. He shifts with her to compensate but his attention stays glued to the tome. Yda doesn't even know what it's about and she can't find it in her to figure it out. The writing is faded and in a dialect she doesn't care to decipher. He has one hand on the book and the other brushes against Yda's leg. Just the tips of his fingers in a silent rhythm. She closes her eyes again, hoping to fall asleep and ignore her suddenly rapid heartbeat.

She wonders if he ever thinks of her like she thinks of him — Yda is usually the one to initiate things between them but for once she wants Papalymo to take control. She knows there is a swiftness in him and an anger that he often saves for their spars and fighting. She lets him see all of her; she wishes he wouldn't hide parts of him. He could take control of her and she wouldn't stop it. His hands holding her down, teeth meeting skin in a way that leaves her panting. Maybe he just needs a push one of these days. Yda would love to see Papalymo _snap_.

And Twelve only knows what he could do with that magic. She gets lightheaded.

He should leave his gauntlets on — the rough chain mail catching her skin. One hand over her mouth and another pulling at her nipple. Papalymo didn't like it when she was too loud. But Yda is always too loud. He lets the cold steel dance on her skin and she shudders. His hand over her mouth leaves as he ducks down to fit between her legs. He is sharp and quick. Papalymo is always so careful but Yda won't break. He leaves bruises where no one could see but just once maybe he would slip up, dig his teeth into her neck to stifle his own moans. The purple would bleed into the tattoos like she always does to him and they would be even.

“Y-Y-Yda _._..?” Papalymo's voice is stained and it draws her away from her thoughts. Yda opens her eyes to see his face is bright red and he looks absolutely mortified. She narrows her eyes at him and leans back slightly.

“Are you alright?” she asks, confused.

He clears his throat and looks away from her, “Y-y-your third eye...” he mumbles.

Yda's face falls in horror. The Garlean third eye. Used to help project ideas and covey messages without the need to speak. She had been telepathically putting all of her thoughts into Papalymo's head the whole time.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet Yda is buff. Think about her biceps. Ohhhhhh Man. And her abs? Yeahhhh.

Yda didn't really have an exercise routine. She would usually convince people to spar with her and when that didn't work she would arm-wrestle others. But once people found out they really couldn't beat her, she had to think up other ways to stay in shape. She was competitive, always, but squat contests only got you so far. Truthfully, she didn't like to workout alone. Papalymo was usually able to give some excuse to get out of sparring with her, but when Yda flat out just asked him spot her while she did some exercises, he really had nothing. She just wanted his company and he would feel bad if he tried to get out of it.

“Don't you get enough exercise from our missions?” He asked, following her a bit timidly to the back room of the Raising Stones. It was empty today, as most of the others had gone out.

“With the Warrior of Light taking down all the big baddies? Hardly,” she said sarcastically with a laugh. She shrugged off her tunic, leaving her in just her thin black and red undershirt. Papalymo swallowed and avoided looking at her. He set down the towel she had told him to carry for her.

Yda got straight to work, first warming with stretches. Papalymo was left to look at nothing but the way her skin moved over her taunt muscles. With the physical nature of Yda's fighting style it was no surprise that she hid excellent muscle tone under her clothes. Papalymo was no stranger to this fact either; he has to shake his head before he thought too much about the way her biceps feel under his hands when he grabs them or the twitch of her abs when he runs his tongue over them. He hated watching her train — even sparing with her — because the way her muscles moved drove him crazy. It was his only weakness, or so he liked to think.

Yda had moved on from stretches and squats to start punching one of the sandbags in the corner. A light sheen of sweat had broken out over her skin and the room was suddenly too confining, as seemed to be his pants. Time seemed to drag on forever and soon he found he couldn't keep his eyes off her. All her muscled rippled from the strain and the sweat made them stand out even more. He bit his lip. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her.

“I'm ready for a dip in the lake now!” She was drying herself off with the towel and flashed Papalymo a smirk. “Want to join me?”

He never stood up so fast in his life.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night I cried in a Shari's at 2am because I want Yda to beat me up. (I cry at Shari's a lot)

Really, Papalymo isn't sure how they got into this predicament. Maybe it was some offhanded comment regarding how much he enjoyed watching Yda beat people up, or the evil glint in her eyes whenever she caught him staring. No matter how, because it is really hard to concentrate on that when Yda is straddling his waist with his hands pinned above his head. Both of their breathing is erratic and labored. Yda's knee is shoved between his legs and his erection straining painfully.

Okay, he lied. He did know how they got into this situation. They were sparring and Papalymo may have gotten distracted and may have accidentally gotten hard when she hit him. Yda's face was priceless and Papalymo knows he will never live it down but at this exact moment, he _doesn't care_. Her hands are leaving bruises on his wrists and his eyes are rolled back. The cold metal of her boots scrapes his thighs and snags the fabric of his pants. His robes are too tight and his head is light. Yda keeps his hands pinned with on hand, leaning her whole weight on to it and then drags the nails of her other hand down his wrists and arms. She leaves scratches that burn and Papalymo can't stop his hips from jerking.

He tries to keep his voice down but it nearly impossible when Yda starts biting his neck. She opens his robes painfully slow and her nails leave raised lines in their wake. She lets up a little, her fingers suddenly soft and tender as she soothes the scratches. It is almost worst and a whine escapes his throat. She has left her mark in the form of hickeys and bruises all across his neck and collarbone but by now he has plenty of excuses to tell people. She lets go of his wrist and lets her fingers trace the bite marks she has left. She licks the shell of his ear and he shudders. Her knee shifts against his erection. It is too tense and Papalymo finds himself holding his breath.

“Yda...” his voice is pathetic and she laughs breathlessly. She presses her knee against his cock and he rocks against it with a groan. The steel is sharp and cold even through the fabric of his pants but the pressure is wonderful. Her hands are softly drawing aimless patterns against the wounds she's inflicted and every once in a while they will brush against his nipples. He can feel a wet spot forming on his pants from his precum and it's humiliating. It is painful how soft she is being.

“Want more?” She whispers and he hisses. She nips at his ear and he rolls his hips sharply. Her hands dance across his neck lightly and then, suddenly, she wraps her hand around his neck rough enough to cut off his breathing and allow bruises to bloom under her fingertips. He gasps sharply and his eyes roll back. His cock twitches and he shudders violently. He nearly cums right there. Yda relaxes her grip, taking the tip of his pointed ear into her mouth. With one hand still wrapped around his neck, she uses her other hand to stroke his ribs and down to his hipbones. She lets her hand come to rest just inches from his swollen erection but puts enough weight that he can't tilt his hips. Her knee pushes against his balls and she tightens her hand around his neck ever so slightly. He arcs his back into her touch.

Yda kisses his ear and then she cuts off his airways again with a squeeze. Papalymo's vision goes blurry — he sees stars. Her the steel of her boot is pressed tightly against his cock and she rocks it. It is painful and amazing. He manages to gasp out her name and then he is coming. She slowly releases his neck and pulls back her leg. She uses her tongue and lips to soothe the bruises and helps him out of his dirty pants to just hold him. He can't bring himself to say anything but he wants to thank her. He is exhausted, but content. She kisses his forehead and pets his hair as he catches his breath.

“I did good?” She asks, suddenly shy.

“Aye. Very good, Yda,” he sighs and she giggles, pulling him tightly against her.  


	5. Chapter 5

There was alcohol in their veins. Just enough to slow their movements, slur their speech and tint their cheeks. Yda was a giggly mess but it couldn't cover her yawns. She was leaning against a wall waiting for Papalymo to come back with their room keys so they could get some sleep. Maybe she wouldn't have a hangover in the morning that way. Papalymo fumbled with his coin pouch as he paid the man at the desk and then approached Yda. She straightened up and met him half way, both proud of themselves for not stumbling.

“Get the rooms alright?”

A pause and he looked down at the single key in his hands. “R-room _s_? I spent nearly all my gil paying for all the food you bought! You can get your own room.”

Yda laughed but it came out awkwardly, “I mean, I guess we can share one if you need to save your gil...” The meet each others eyes and both found themselves blushing. Yda rubbed the back of her neck and looked away first. Yda had absolutely no gil.

Papalymo cleared his throat, “A-aye... I do need to save my gil... Wait...do you mean to tell me you are out of gil, _again_?”

Yda glanced back at him and offered him a slight smirk before heading off for them to find the room. Papalymo grumbled but followed after her. The mess of halls and doors are much more complex when one is drunk. They somehow managed to find it and Papalymo opened the door after some difficultly with Yda laughing at him the whole time. She walked in first and plopped herself down onto the bed. Papalymo started to set down his bags and staff before taking a seat in a chair to remove his gauntlets and boots. He had little trouble besides his heavy eyes and slow fingers — Yda, though, was struggling terribly with the buckles on her boots. She had gotten a few of the straps undone by the time Papalymo finished with his and he chuckled at her.

Yda's boots seemed to be very drunk person proof. A good thing maybe if she was fighting drunks but Papalymo knelt down to help her. He fumbled with the mess of straps and buckles holding the heavy armor together and wanted to berate her for wearing such complex boots — and with those shorts! But he couldn't take his concentration of them to help, least he lose his place. After they both struggled together, Yda maybe causing more problems than helping, they finally managed to free Yda from her impractical steel boots. She tossed them to side rather violently and they clattered noisily.

Papalymo let his hands linger on her skin and then stood. He didn't move away from her, just watched her face. He furrowed his brows. His head was hazy and he couldn't read her expression with her mask. His eyes glanced down at her lips and then back up at her mask. He reached out slowly to push it up and his fingers trailed down her cheek. The air was heavy and the room spun slightly. She leaned into his touch with a sigh and met his eyes. Papalymo found his gaze going back to her lips. He moved closer to her and then pressed his lips softly against hers. She kissed back, slowly, softly and unlike her; her hands wrapping around his body and pulling him close.

He let his hands wander, allowing them to move under her shirt and rub the skin of her back. She shivered, trying to undo his robes but struggling. His hands trailed up her sides, darting under her undershirt until he was caressing her breasts. She moaned softly, not breaking the kiss as her fingers still fumbled with his robes. He pulled at her nipples and then his lips moved across her cheek and then down her neck. He paused there, sucking and nipping softly while he pushed up her shirt.

Yda stopped struggling with Papalymo's robes to allow him to pull off her top. He didn't give her much time to get back to work trying to undress him and instead pressed his lips to her breast. He wrapped his lips around her nipple and her fingers hesitated on his clothing as she hissed. His other hand fluttered across her stomach and slipped into her shorts. Yda threw her head back, giving up on his robes and instead just clutching them as his fingertips danced across her clit.

He teased her until her thighs quivered and then pushed her back to lay down on the bed. He undid his robes and pants without a second thought, setting them to the side and then crawling onto the bed with her. Yda pulled him down into a kiss. Papalymo leaned back and she whimpered. He took in her body and not often did he really get to look at her. He hoped that he would at least remember this when the alcohol-daze cleared.

“I want this, Yda — I want you,” Papalymo's voice was hoarse. Yda chuckled softly, reaching out and intertwining their fingers. She pulled him close and he fit easily between her thighs. She reached down between them to help him slid into her. He jerked his hips sharply and squeezed her hand. He pushed his face into her chest, one arm wrapped around her back and the other still holding her hand. He groaned, feeling her around him and she rolled her hips sharply. He caught his breath enough to start moving his hips, starting with slow thrusts so he wouldn't lose himself to the feeling.

Yda held him close, loud moans escaping her lips without a care. She met his movements and for once, she was simply enjoying the slowness of it all. The feel was simple and perfect; something different for the two of them. She tightened her grip on his hand and he grunted. He felt her tightening around him and spend up his pace, feeling both of them getting close. The feeling was new, enhanced by their slightly drunken state. Papalymo slipped the hand that wasn't intertwined with Yda's between them, rubbing her clit and it didn't take long before she was shuddering as her orgasm overtook her. He followed quickly, spilling inside of her.

The both laid there panting before Yda pulled Papalymo up to cuddle with her. He pulled the blankets around them and soon, she was snoring — their hands still laced together.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after wedding smut!

Yda wouldn't let Papalymo be. Maybe it was revenge for having to wear that damned dress.

It wouldn't have been a problem if she was simply just annoying him — no, it was _how_ she was annoying him. Small, teasing touches. A brush of her fingertips against his neck or maybe a hand that lingers on his thigh a bit too long and all while keeping a perfectly straight face while in front of their guests.

At first, Papalymo had thought he was imagining it as they stood around the table to slice the cake. Yda had reached around him to grab a piece, her hands tracing his tattoo as she did so. He had shuddered and he barely caught the sly smirk she gave him. It all went downhill from there. She would bend down as if to look him in the eyes or tell him something but her lips would brush against the tip of his ear. She would wink at him when he tried to push her away.

The fact that he could see her eyes was evidence enough that she wanted to make this hard on him. She didn't even try to change after the Ceremony and the way her dress clung to her curves in a way he had never seen before nearly drove him crazy. He caught himself staring and she saw it too. They danced after the Ceremony and she made sure that he was watching when she moved her hips, a smirk on the corner of her lips.

It was all bearable, at least mostly, until they sat down for dinner. It wasn't a fancy dinner but it was nice to only be around their fellow Scions as opposed to all the others that had been at the wedding. Yda finished her food before anyone else which wasn't anything new, but as everyone was preoccupied with conversation, she let her hand brush against Papalymo's thigh. He tried to pull his leg away, shooting a glare at her. Yda smirked, her hands curling around his leg and grabbing onto it tightly. Someone asked Papalymo a question — Yda wasn't paying attention enough to hear it. He turned his gaze away from her to engage in conversation. Yda loosened her grip and Papalymo thought she has given up.

Her fingers moved up farther, light and just barely touching the inside of his thigh. His member twitched and his hands tightened against the tablecloth. Yda leaned over, acting like she was going to grab something from his plate. Her teeth grazed the tip of his ear and when his hip jerked, she laughed breathlessly. She leaned back, taking a piece of meat from his plate to eat. Her hand drew lazy circles against the inside of his thigh, her knuckles brushing against his member every so often. Papalymo tried to keep his attention on the conversation but his voice started to shake.

Yda picked at her food some more — stealing the rest of Papalymo's plate since it was clear he wasn't gonna eat anymore and let her thumb find the head of his erection. He jerked his hips and bit is lip but surprisingly kept up conversation. Yda frowned. That wouldn't do. She shifted, wrapping her hand around his cock as best she could through his pants. He exhaled a sharp breath from between his clenched teeth. He looked at Yda from the corner of his eyes. He tried to look angry but instead just looks desperate. Yda loved it. Someone asked if he was okay; he nods quickly, jumping back into the conversation.

She squeezed him at irregular intervals, always when he least expects it, each time earning her a gasp from him. His face was flustered and he take a drink of his wine to cover it — despite the fact he never drank. He couldn't tell if it was her or the wine that made him lightheaded and warm. He wanted her and he had wanted her since the first time he saw her in that dress. His cock throbbed in her hand and she ran her fingertips against the wet spot starting to form on the front of his pants. She let her thumb rub his skin just above the him of his pants and she undid the button carefully. His breath hitched, his vision blurred.

Then, suddenly, her hand was gone. Papalymo missed the feeling and lifted his hips up, biting back a whine. He hated Yda, he loved Yda. Yda leaned over the table and grabbed a bread roll. She ate it painfully slow and looked over, smiling tauntingly at him. Papalymo stood up, fast.

“I'm sorry. I'm very tried after this long day. I'll be retiring for the night,” his voice wobbled but he managed to turn on his heels and leave the room. Yda was shocked at first but then chuckles.

“I'm gonna go get out of this awful dress,” she stood also and waved to the others, following after Papalymo.

She started towards his room but to her surprise, he grabbed her wrist as soon as she came up the stairs towards the rooms. He tugged her down and kissed her so roughly that she could feel her lips bruising.

“Calm down,” she giggled, pulling him back, “Let's get to a bedroom first!”

Papalymo hissed, his hands already finding their way up her dress, “Too far,” he panted and then he pressed their lips together again, this time with teeth and tongue. He pushed her towards the desk and climbs up onto the chair. It was Yda's turn to be flustered now as he shoved her against the desk and pulled up her dress.

“ _Here_? Wait! Everyone is still downstairs!”

“Then you better be quiet,” he mumbled, grinding himself against her. He let his fingers trace the curve of her hips and growled, “I can't believe you wore these boots under your wedding dress...”

Yda chuckled, her breathing heavy and pressed her ass against his hips, “Are you complaining about how I look?”

He doesn't respond right away, instead pulling her panties to the side and rubbing her clit. She hissed and he reached down to undo his pants. She glanced back at him when he doesn't do anything right away.

“You...looked really beautiful today,” he whispered.

Yda almost laughed but he slid a finger inside of her, causing her to gasp. She was already very wet and he had no doubt that all the teasing she was doing to him was getting her worked up too. Papalymo tugged her hips down slightly so that he could push his cock into her. Yda had to bring her hand up to her mouth to stifle her moan as he entered. Papalymo dug his nails into her hips to hold her still, not moving right away just to enjoy the feel of her clenching around him.

“Hurry...” Yda whimpered, pressing her forehead to the cool wood of the desk.

Papalymo pulled out, almost completely, before slamming his hips back against hers. Yda's barely muffles her loud moan in time. He sighed in pleasure, setting a fast pace for his thrusts. Yda tried to meet his thrusts but her legs shook and threatened to give out. Neither of them will last long after the long day of teasing they had. Papalymo bit his lip to hold back the sound of his grunts. His fingers left bruises on her hips and his thrusts are hard enough to make sharp slapping sounds. They nearly forgot that everyone else was still directly below them.

“Yda...” he managed to ground out sharply. She shuddered and his cock jerked inside of her.

“I'm yours, Papalymo,” she whispered suddenly, panting against the desk under her. And that's all it took for him to see stars. He came into her with a strangled groan, his whole body shaking. Yda followed, clenching down around him so hard he thought he may pass out from the pleasure. She continued to quiver and they both stand there, attempting to catch their breath.

Finally, Yda was able to talk again, “So...what are we doing for our honeymoon?”

Papalymo wanted to hit her but instead just pulled out of her, “I, for one, would like to get some sleep now.”

Yda laughed at him, “You really think I'm done with you?”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Fantasy XIV is just a dress up game right? In which my partner and I spend all of our time just making ridiculous costumes for Yda and Papalymo.

“Are you wearing a skirt?”

“'Tis a _kilt_ , Yda.”

Yda cocks her head to the side and watches him for a while. They had been exploring what was left of the Sharlayan Colony. It is there first time back since it was abandoned and both of them had quickly started picking up the pieces of what they knew and remembered — both enthusiastic to get a change of clothes.

“It's a skirt,” Yda tells him finally.

Papalymo, who had been standing on his tiptoes looking at a bookshelf, allows himself to fall flat on his feet. The sound of his heels echo around them and he sighs. He is wearing a typical Sharlayan trench-coat, his normal yellow gauntlets, his... _kilt_ , and what Yda regarded as some very nice boots. She couldn't see how tall they were due to the length of his kilt but she can guess. Yet, maybe guessing isn't good enough for her. She takes a step back, examining him.

“And just what about you, Yda? What are you wearing?” Papalymo points a finger disapprovingly at her as he turns to face her.

Yda glances down at herself in exaggeration. She is much more colorful than him, but still in a traditional Sharlayan outfit, albeit a bit modified. She still has a mask and turban, but instead in the colors black and red. She is wearing a long and fancy Sharlayan coat in the same bright reds with black accents. It shows off a bit more skin than either of them are used to, with a bare stomach and, to no one's surprise, a pair of shorts. Her legs are covered in a pair of tall boots still.

“You don't like it?” She gives him a sly grin. Papalymo frowns, clearing his throat.

“N-no. You look...nice,” he looks away from her, afraid he would start to stare and goes back to the bookshelf in front of him.

“You don't think it's too much?” She presses, eyes taking him before focusing on where the fabric of his kilt moves against the leather of his boots.

He doesn't look back at her but his ears start to tint red, “Y-you are...not quiet as covered as I'm used to.”

“And you're in a dress,” she takes a step forward, standing very close to him and her hands brush the hem of his kilt.

Papalymo freezes when he feels her behind him, “Yda...” he whispers disapprovingly.

She gives a slight chuckle, leaning over his shoulder to look at the shelf, her fingers playing with his kilt, “How tall are those boots under there?”

He shivers, “Not as tall as yours, most likely,” there is a hitch in his voice as she presses herself closer to him, her hand pushing the fabric up and meeting the leather of his boots right behind his knees.

“I don't know, Papalymo... I think they might be the same height,” He doesn't reply, or maybe he can't reply but a shudder wracks his body. Yda laughs breathlessly against his ear, her lips just barely touching it. “You mind if I check? You know...to be sure.”

“P-pardon me?” He stammers, turning to face her.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” she says suddenly, sinking downwards. She kneels in front of him and before he can protest her hands travel up his kilt. She moves her hands, listening to his breathing increase and staring into his eyes until her fingertips finally meet skin instead of leather. His boots end mid-thigh — the same height, if not higher, than her own boots. “Oh, those are pretty tall.”

Papalymo's knees shake and he grabs onto her for support, “Twelve have mercy, Yda... What are you doing?”

She doesn't reply, but pushes up his skirt so she can duck her head under it. He gasps, stumbling back in shock, his back hitting the bookshelf behind him. She steadies him, pulling one of his legs over her shoulder and pressing her lips to his inner thigh, just above his boot. He grabs her head through his skirt and he curses. Yda can hear her name somewhere jumbled with the various names of the Twelve. She moves her lips slowly, dragging her tongue across his skin with her other hand on the opposite knee to keep his legs spread. Papalymo brings one hand up to his mouth to stifle his groans and his hips rock forward.

“Y-Yda...” he gasps, grabbing a fistful of fabric. She just hums against his skin, slowly moving upwards until her lips brush against the fabric of his small clothes. She pulled them down slightly, her hand touching his hardened member lightly. The head is already shimmering with precum and she leans down to lick it off. He trembles. She lets one hand message his hips while she moves her other into her own pants.

Yda sucks at him roughly; her hands holding him down. She moves almost painfully slow at first, just enjoying his muffled grunts and groans. She touches herself at the same slow rhythm, her fingers not even entering herself, just stroking her clit and teasing her entrance. She is more focused on his sounds. Finally, she picks up her pace, taking his full length into his mouth and bobbing up and down faster. He presses down on her head, hunched over her as he started to shake. She couldn't move quite as much now but she knew it wouldn't take much in the first place. She hums against him, feeling him twitch as she let her own fingers finally enter herself.

She can't make out what he is saying because of his hand muffling it and she can't very well look up at him when she's literally under his skirt... _kilt_ , whatever. She continues to suck, running her tongue across the head of his cock. Papalymo groans loudly and soon both of his hands are clutching onto her. He cums inside her mouth and she lets him buck his hips upwards. She swallows greedily and leaves her mouth there before he falls limp against her, panting. She untangles them from each other, slipping out from under his kilt and setting him back to the floor. He holds onto her arm to keep himself steady.

“I am putting on pants as soon as we get out here,” he grumbles.

Yda pouts but she can't hold back her laughter, “You look so good in a skirt though!”

“And your inability to control yourself is precisely the problem.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've developed a very dangerous clothing fetish.

During their adventures, Papalymo had collected a lot of different outfits but he always ended up coming back to his simple black robes and maybe that was Yda's doing.

She loved to watch him react, so truthfully, it was Papalymo's fault for giving her what she wanted and he knew it. He would be lying if he said it didn't keep him on his toes. She, at the very least, was good about waiting until their work was done. He had plenty of robes and shirts, but Yda made it so damned hard to wear anything more than once. It was the memories and it was also her lack of tack and control.

It was usually something simple. A flash of skin; a window in the fabric just under his collar bone. Yda would always find a way to lean down and kiss the exposed skin. Drag her tongue across his chest as her fingers learned the new buckles and clasps. She was a fast learner and perhaps she knew how his clothes worked better than him. His hands tugging at her as her lips touched his skin and soon, she would bring her mouth up to his. She made his head swim and his head light. He would be angry and she would just laugh. He would decide then that Yda couldn't be trusted with _that_ robe and move on.

His new robes would often end up dirty and torn after combat, especially the prettier, more delicate ones. Yda liked to sneak up on him right as he was getting ready to bathe. She helped him by kissing each cut and bruise. Her lips soft before she added teeth. Her fingers would slip into the holes in the cloth, exploring underneath. A rip on the sleeve, one closer to his hip and a few tears on his thighs. Yda made sure to touch every inch of skin, mentally keeping count of each wound _(—she always kept count, just to make sure he didn't get any new ones while she wasn't around. She hated it when he got into fights without her)_. Then, when she was done teasing, she would help him out of his ruined clothes. His panting drowned out the sound of the ripping. Another robe gone. He didn't like it that much anyway.

She would help him ease into the water later and they would actually tend to the wounds, but for now, they had to get even dirtier before they got clean.

Another robe Papalymo picked up had slits along his hipbones. Yda chewed at her lip when she first saw it, a sly smile on her lips. He pretended not to notice and they went along with their business. Then, when everyone else had left them and it was quiet, Papalymo knew that this was another robe he would only wear when they were alone. The paperwork was done and the tomes filed. Yda leaned up against his desk close to him. Her fingers like a ghost against the exposed skin of his hips. He shivered, covering it by snapping at her. Yda's smirk was lazy and her hands cold against his skin. They dipped in slightly, under the fabric. Papalymo bit his tongue. Then she moved, always fast and graceful. Sliding off the desk and to her knees. Her lips were soft against his skin, not quite kissing, just rubbing them softly against him. Then it was teeth, soft nips across his hip bones and her hands strong against his legs to stop him from jumping. She ran her palms across his thighs and he let his head fall back. She heard her name on his breath.

And she wouldn't learn how to undo the buttons just yet. She would wait. Papalymo then realized that maybe it has nothing to do with his clothes but just _him_. Yda would be Yda, no matter what he wore and really, he wouldn't have it any other way.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> primal au smut im so so sorry

When Yda saw Papalymo again, she attacked him. She wanted to forget and she wanted the pain to stop. He was ready for her and threw up his staff to block her fists; air rushing around them. She met his eyes and they were still wrong but so where hers. A wrong and solid green. Neither looked away but Yda sensed the magic gathering around him. She rolled to the side, barely dodging the lightning strike before dashing back towards him. He ducked between her legs, letting lose another spell. She lifted her leg to bring it down upon him, letting the spell hit her with a hiss. Papalymo spun but not fast enough and Yda's leg clipped his shoulder, taking him down. She reeled her arm back as if to hit him but instead grabbed his collar and hoisted him up.

“You...you're supposed to be dead,” she whispered, her body shaking. She didn't want to remember him. It hurt. Papalymo opened his mouth to speak but then Yda is kissing him. Her thumb pushed against his neck so she could feel his heart pound and her teeth biting his lip so she could taste blood. Papalymo gasped, digging his nails into her back and giving her hair a sharp tug.

“Funny thing about death...” Papalymo panted, pulling his mouth away from hers to lean down and bite her neck, “'Tis not as permanent as we seem to think...” His nails left raised red lines in their wake as he clawed at her back. Yda hissed, sitting down heavily and pulling him into her lap. Her hands ripped open his robes so she could return the favor of leaving scratches down his back.

“Do you think maybe it would have been better if it was?” She growled, kissing him again, her tongue pushing into his mouth and her hands pushing his robes from his shoulders. She tasted blood and wasn't sure if it was hers or his. It made her dizzy. He shuddered, grabbing her wrists quickly and pushing her back. He straddled her chest, breaking the kiss to run his fingers over her scarred arm. His touch was hard — angry.

“Perhaps...” he murmured as he traced her scars, pressure and nails drawing a gasp from her bloodstained lips. She was beautiful, feathers poking from her skin and body arced up into him. Death was a mercy, a slight taste of freedom from this world where he heard nothing but voices and the pull to return. Maybe he missed it but he missed Yda more. The tips of his fingers were electrified and her hips rolled at the feeling — welcoming the slight pain. It was a feeling and she had been numb for much too long.

Yda flipped them over suddenly, pushing his robes completely off as she leaned over him. She dragged her tongue down his neck, fingers digging into his ribs. She was not soft, not kind and he didn't want her to be. She left marks down his neck and across his collarbone until she got to the puckered scar at the center of his chest. She paused, hesitantly. She touched it sadly, memorizing the texture. She remembered the feel of the steel in her hand that caused; how easy it was to take lives. She placed a small kiss to the deepest part, where the blade slipped past a rib and into his chest cavity. A strangely tender moment and they both hated it. That wasn't them anymore.

Papalymo fisted his hand into her hair, forcing her back up to kiss him. He bit her lip, hands darting under her shirt to cup her breast. He pinched her nipple and she bucked her hips with a deep growl. The air around him sparked and he rolled them over again so that he was back on top, breaking the kiss to lower his mouth to her chest. He bit her nipple, sucking it into his mouth until it was red and swollen and then moved to the other. He dug his nails into her hips to keep her from moving, leaving red crescents in his wake. The air around them was charged with static and every feeling of pain left her breathless. She hated him, hated herself and hated what they had both become. She pushed a hand between them and into his pants, gripping his erection tightly and pumping her fist against him.

Papalymo groaned, running his teeth across her nipple before he pulled down her pants. He rubbed her clit and she arched her back, stroking him faster. He managed to wiggle out of his pants and slip between he legs, lining himself up with her. He grabbed her leg, bruises blooming under his fingertips, as he slowly entered her. He growled at the feeling and quickly set up the pace of his thrusts as fast and sharp. Yda clawed at his back, blood under her nails, as she held him close. His name was on her lips and suddenly she elbowed him in the side. He grunted, magic arcing off him as she flipped their positions, climbing on top of him. She continued the pace he had set, moving herself against him sharply while she leaned down to graze her teeth against his ear. He gripped her hips, encouraging her fast thrusts.

It was no surprise to either of them how fast they could feel themselves approaching their climax. Yda leaned in, sinking her teeth into Papalymo's shoulder. He threw his head back, electricity arcing off of him as he felt her clench around him.

“Yda...” he hissed, his vision blurring. He missed her so much; he missed what they had and what they were.

But that wasn't them anymore.

It's a jerk — Yda nearly falls out of her bed. Her head hurts and her body aches. And she is alone with nothing but her nightmares and the knowledge that Papalymo is gone and she is gone. They is no Yda and no Papalymo and there is no _them_. There is relief there, though, in knowing that Papalymo will never see what she has become. She runs a shaking hand through her hair, her hands brushing against the feathers just under her skin. They itch. She pulls her knees up to her chest and glances out the window. It's raining.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was late and Papalymo was going on and on about something or another. Yda had tuned him out a while ago. Usually she would be content listening to his voice, but he was heated about something, pacing and complaining. They had both had a very long week and Yda yawned. Every one had been busy, especially them.

“You need to relax,” she said, growing impatient with his complaining. Yda was a woman of action and whatever he was whining about wouldn't get fixed with words. She was sure whatever it was, wasn't even fixable anyway. The book tower she had made had fallen after growing to an impressive height. That upset her. Maybe she was tense too.

“Relax?” Papalymo snapped, “The Moogles might declare war if we don't do something.”

“The Moogles won't do anything and we both know that,” she reached for another book to restart her tower. There was a pounding that had started in the back of her head. Papalymo reached out and snatched the book away from, knocking over remaining debris of the previous one. She looked up at him, glaring even though he can't see.

“Pay attention, Yda! We need to do research on—”

Yda stood and didn't let him finish, “When was the last time you had sex?”

Papalymo turned to her sharply, his ears and face darkening from anger and embarrassment, “ _Excuse me_?! We have much more pressing matters!”

“High strung and irritable. You need to relax,” Yda leaned over the table, close to him. She grabbed the book he took from her and tossing it behind her. Papalymo made a loud sound of displeasure; a mix of a shout and a scoff.

“How dare you! Go bring that back! Do you have any idea—” He reached up, meaning to shove her away when she caught his wrist, interrupting him again.

“Can't you just be quiet for once in your life?” Her lips just barely brushed against his and a shudder rocked his body. She looked him up and down, “If the last time was with me, it's been what? Two? Three weeks?”

“Yda,” he growled loudly, but he didn't move; his eyes fall to her lips, “I swear to the Twelve, now is not the time. We need—”

She pulled his hair sharply, jerking his head back. Her head hurt and _he just kept yelling,_ “Just shut your bloody mouth...” His bloody stupid...irresistible mouth. Yda was kissing him then, rough and angry. She managed to pull herself across the small table and slide into his lap. Papalymo was kissing her back instantly, hands falling to her hips and maybe he did need to relax. She was familiar and maybe he needed that right now. Yda's hands undo his robes with a memorized grace and when she leaned down to kiss Papalymo's Sage Mark, he hissed.

“Quiet...” Yda mumbled, her head still aching. Papalymo bit his lip, mentally glaring at her. She felt his hands tighten on her hips and ground herself against his growing erection in response. She sucked his neck, slipping her hand between them to open his pants. She wrapped her hand around his member and his hips shook in response. A groan bubbled up in the back of his throat but he was able to keep it down; his head tossed back.

She stroked him slowly, her grip like a ghost until the head of his erection was wet with precum and his breathing labored. The whole time she had just watched him, kissing down his neck and across his chest. He was quiet, a moan rumbling from his chest every so often but not loud enough to upset her head. Yda rewarded him by slipping from his lap and onto her knees. He could feel her breath against his cock and it twitched. He dug his nails into the side of his chair. She kissed the head, licking it clean before taking him entirely into her mouth. He thrust his hips up into his mouth and a loud hiss escaped his clenched jaw. She glanced up at him in warning.

Yda sucked at him softly, running her tongue over the skin. She found her own pace; teasingly slow and Papalymo hated it. She had a tight grip on his hips to keep him from moving and his whole body shook as she took her time letting him find his release. He wanted to scream. She barely even let her mouth reach the base, instead her tongue just drew lazy circles around the head. He moved one hand to her head, tugging off her turban softly and trying to urge her to speed up. She ignored him, her fingers stroking the skin of his inner thigh lightly.

“Yda...” He growled, he couldn't keep his voice down but gods did he try, “If this is meant to relax me, you are doing _exactly_ the opposite...”

She chuckled but since he was at least trying to be quiet for the sake of her head, she gave in. Yda took him fully into her mouths, speeding up and sucking him until his whole body shuddered. She moved fast, knowing exactly what he liked and what to do to get the reactions _she_ liked. A hiss escaped his lips and as he started to get closer, his voice started to raise. First it was just panting then hissing and finally deep groans. The pounding in the back of Yda's head started again but she couldn't bring herself to stop. The sounds were usually something she loved from him but right now, she decided she couldn't put up with it. She brought her hand up, fingers dancing across his lips before she pushed two fingers into his mouth. She didn't bother scolding him or even shooting him a dirty look; just forcing her fingers into his mouth to quiet him. It was enough and her attention didn't divert from working her mouth against his cock. She could still hear his muffled growls and it drove her crazy, without hurting her head.

He wanted to bite her fingers but held himself back because in reality maybe he enjoyed it — however embarrassing it was. He pushed her head down, fingers tangled up in her hair. His hips tried to keep up to her rhythm but he just became desperate. He was so close he could see stars. Her name was on her lips but with her fingers in his mouth none of them could make out much more than his strangled sounds of pleasure. Yda thought he sounded better like that. No words, just sounds boosting her ego. As if she needed it.

He came quickly into her mouth, his teeth clenching down onto her fingers, not hard enough to hurt but enough to stop his voice himself. She swallowed down his cum, sucking him until his shaking stopped. She pulled back slowly from him, removing her fingers from his mouth and standing up. She watched him catch his breath and then he straightened, meeting her eyes. He was about to say something, scold her probably but she pulled off her shorts quickly and plopped herself up onto to table, spreading her legs directly in front of him. She reached out, grabbed his head and pulling his face between her legs.

“My head still hurts so you better get to work returning the favor. And it will keep you quiet too,” her voice was husky and he licked his lips with a shudder.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look this one gets a nice fancy warning
> 
> **Warning: Pegging**

Maybe Papalymo liked taunting Yda. He usually didn't get a chance so when he found something that really got to her, he would abuse it. Call it revenge for all the times she annoyed him to no end. He hadn't meant for this to be one of those times, but he wouldn't complain. At least not right away. Give it a few days and then he would.

It started when Yda found out the Papalymo had taken up pugilism. Papalymo had tried to keep it a secret but Yda found him practicing his punches in the training room. He had wanted to try it out and his fists were wrapped up expertly — with steel on his knuckles and maybe too much attention on his forms and less on the power behind his hits. Yda was quiet at first, just admiring the way he was dressed and taking him all in. He hadn't heard her come in. He was always giving her pointers about her form, it was no surprise that his was perfected. He wasn't wearing his robes, but a more traditional for a monk, albeit a bit fancy. Yda wasn't complaining though. Watching him swing punches and kicks kept her interest. But she knew he could hit harder than that.

“Put your back into it,” she called, finally walking up to him.

“Y-Yda! Gods, woman, did no one teach you to knock?”

She circled him, he hadn't dropped his stance and she took the time to take him in. Her eyes lingering more on his clothing than his actual posture. Papalymo always did look good in black.

“Do you want a few pointers?” Yda asked.

“I do not need your help,” he growled.

“Then how about a spar?” she flashed him a smile, “I find its much easier to learn that way.”

A sly smirk spread across Papalymo's face, mischievous and young, “Maybe a spar will do me good,” he whispers and Yda narrows her eyes.

“Don't expect me to go easy on you just because you're still learning, though,” Yda explained, bringing her fists up and bending her knees, “I didn't get my Sage Mark for nothing.”

“Oh, yes, I am aware,” the grin is still on his lips and Yda would punch that smirk straight off his face, “I won't hold back either.”

And as soon as those words are out his mouth, she dashed forward. Papalymo tried to block but she was always the faster one. She hit him in the arm and he stumbled back. Yda wasted no time keep her upper-hand, tossing her leg out catch his. He was able to dodge her leg sweep, rolling to the side before picking himself back up. Yda swung another punch and it connected with Papalymo's cheek. He snarled at her but he was a quick learner, maybe even quicker than she realized. He knew her better than maybe she even knew herself. He returned the favor, grabbing her wrist when she tried to pull back and then kicking her legs out from under her. She tumbled down — catching herself mid-fall to cartwheel backwards.

There was the bloody smirk on Papalymo's lips again. He was taunting her. He lowered himself down, his stance perfected and motioned for her to come forward. Yda wanted to spit at him. She sprinted forward again and he held his ground, bracing himself. He caught her fist in his and met her eyes.

He was a fast learner, yes, but he also had something she didn't. Magic.

A blast of pure aether knocked her back. Yda landed on her back, staring at the ceiling and not quiet understanding what happened.

“I think it's safe to say I w—” Papalymo started as he walked over to her but she jumped to her feet, diving back towards him. Her fist clipped his shoulder and she jerked her knee up into his stomach. He grabbed her thigh, magic surging though them as he blocked her attack and elbowed her away, every move enhanced by his own aether. She skid back, kneeling over to catch her breath. He was smirking wider as he wiped the back of his hand on his mouth. His lip was split and his eyes glinted in the light. He fists are balled and he took a step forward. The aether in the air made her dizzy.

“If you keep grinning like that I might need to show you just who is in charge,” she growled, straightening and clenching her fists.

“Is that a challenge?”

Yda doesn't, won't, reply; she simply picked herself up and charged back in. That surprised Papalymo but she was just as thickheaded as always. He adored it. Adored the challenge. Adored _her._ Of course, that doesn't stop her from punching him. Her fist connected with his jaw and he nearly falls back but caught himself by swinging a kick up towards her. She had gotten cocky and tried to block it but Papalymo backed his swings with magic. Yda winced, trying to hold her ground but the force of it still knocked the wind from her lungs. Her knees buckled but if she is going down she's taking him with her. She hooked her leg around his and twisted her hand in the fabric of his top. Papalymo released a strangled gasp and they collapse in a heap, both panting.

The two of them are silent besides their own heavy breathing. The air is thick with aether and Papalymo laying heavily atop Yda. It doesn't take long for both of them to realize that the air also smelt like arousal. Papalymo shifted and he was already hard, had probably been hard for a long time. Yda swallowed the lump in her throat and reached out to pull him closer. He grabbed her wrist instead, tugging her into a hard kiss.

“Who's room is closer?” He asked quickly against her lips, grinding against her.

Yda chuckled, shoving him off of her with a elbow to his ribs. He jumped to his feet, grip still on her wrist so she was pulled up with him. They were both bruised and horny. Papalymo wondered if he should just give up pugilism if this was how all their training sessions were going to end. He had learned a lot, though, and he felt he was about to learn more.

“Mine, I think,” she whispered, curling their fingers together and tugging him towards the exit. They wasted no time getting to her room, the whole time still mock fighting. Yda graceful with cartwheels and flips but Papalymo was hitting all the punches with more force than she would have ever thought him capable of.

By the time they actually get the room, Yda has had more than enough games. She picked him up, shoving him against the door she had just barely shut. She was kissing him with teeth and tongue and she was more than a little heated. It didn't take long for clothes to be discarded and even Papalymo, who was usually so careful about where he put his clothes, tossed them to the side haphazardly. They barely made it to the bed but Yda rolled on top of him, teeth and nails leaving marks on every inch of skin she could reach.

“I want to try something,” she growled and usually that would terrifying to hear from her but Papalymo was much to wound up to care. He rolled his hips against her and he didn't care how he had her so long as he did. He was too tried from lack of mana and was light headed from everything. Maybe he pushed himself too hard but he would let Yda win this round. He gave a desperate nod, pulling her back down so that he could feel her skin on his. She kissed him quickly, a sharp bite to his lips before she pulled back and flipped him over onto his stomach. She replaced her own mouth with her fingers, shoving them into his mouth. He grunted but she just pulled them out and ran her nails down his back. She ground her hips against his ass, fingers following the curve of his spine and down his tailbone. He shuddered.

Yda let her other hand wrap about him to grip his erection before she carefully pushed her finger inside of him. His hips jerked and a low hips escaped his lips. She placed a kiss to his back, moving her finger slowly. His cock twitched in her hand.

“Twelve help you, Yda, if you don't finish before I get enough mana to turn this around,” his voice was venom but she could hear the needy undertone to it. She laughed at him, thrusting her finger before adding another. He was a shuddering mess as she helped stretch him, gripping the blankets. Yda liked this side of him.

“Trust me, okay?” she said, withdrawing her touch from him completely. He growled at the loss of contact and glanced back at her. He had been close and his erection dripped precum.

“I would have left a long time ago if trust was an issue,” he mumbled angrily, “But _gods,_ hurry.”

Yda leaned back, grabbed the harness that she kept under the bed and pulling it on. Papalymo didn't want to know why she had it and just pressed his head into the bedding. He couldn't believe he was actually letting Yda do this. He couldn't believe he wanted Yda to do this. After the harness was secured, she reached for a bottle, squeezing the liquid into her palm and rubbing her hands against the rubber of the false cock. She kissed his back again, hands pulling his hips up towards her. He shook anxiously, his cock jerking. She rubbed lined herself up and pushed into him carefully.

“Relax,” she whispered, hunching over him to run her tongue across his neck. She let her hand reach around to stroke his erection. He groaned, pushing himself closer to her. Once she had pushed herself completely in she paused to let him adjust, jerking his cock slowly and letting her thumb brush against the head. Her free hand reached up to intertwine with his.

He tightened his grip on her hand, “Just move already. You aren't going to break me, woman.”

She frowned, “Pardon me for trying to be polite, _old man_.”

He shocked her for that, a burst of magic from his hand to hers and she yelped, thrusting her hips sharply in response. He groaned, loudly and his whole body shuddered. She mumbled out a 'fine', pulling her hand away from his and placing it on his hip. She dug her nails into his skin as she started to move. Her hand around his cock matched the pace of her hips. He tried to keep his voice down but his groans still escaped as he arched his back. He wouldn't last long and they both knew it. She increased her speed until he was sure his hips would be bruised. His thighs quivered and his vision was blurring from both lack of mana and the feeling of it all.

“ _Yda_ ,” he managed to squeeze out her name from his tight throat. She slowed ever so slightly, maybe to taunt him or maybe to give him a slight rest from the overwhelming sensations. She leaned forward, kissing his Sage Mark before carefully tracing the magical ink with her tongue. That was all it took and then he was cumming. He spilled himself into her hand and shuddered violently under her. She slowed her actions until both of them were still and then pulled out of him. She tossed the harness to the side and pulled him up close to her.

“You still have a lot to learn,” she said, drawing designs on his slick skin, “Like how taunting me is bad for you.”

“If that is bad for me, I don't want to know what you think is good for me,” he murmured irritably.

  
  


 


	12. Chapter 12

Papalymo isn't exactly sure how Yda talked him into helping her make honey glazed boar. If he could think past her sticky fingers leaving trails of honey across his collarbone, he would probably have guessed that she had this all planned out. A honey-coated finger to his lips and he is head is already foggy from her grinding up against him. He could have scolded her if weren't for that; this area wasn't exactly private. Anyone could come barging in and yet his robes are on the floor and his skin is sticky.

Yda is evil, really.

She leans down to lick off the mess she had made, tongue agonizingly slow. She is in his lap and he doesn't remember when she took off her over-shirt. Her hips roll against him and if he could only remember how this all happened he could stop it from occurring again. He curses, jerking his hips against hers. His pants are too tight and the kitchen is too hot. The stove is on but the boar never made it that far. One of her hands, and of course its the one still slightly covered in honey, slips into his pants and grasps his erection. He gasps, head tossed back and his own hands find her hips.

Her tongue is still following the sweet trail she left, humming as she slides from his lap to move from his chest down across his stomach and hipbones. Papalymo is panting. She is slow, merciless, as she licks up every bit of honey she left on his skin. He wants to hate her but he also wants her to hurry and just _fuck_ him already.

“Yda...” his voice is strained and she glances up at him, her lips against his stomach just above his cock. Her hand is gripping him, giving him a soft stroke.

“Yes?” She draws the word out, smirking.

“Hurry,” he grumbles. Her thumb brushes against the head of his cock and he shudders, a hiss pressing pass is teeth.

“With what?”

He swears to the Twelve he wouldn't buy her any food for moons. No matter how much she begged.

“You are a bloody idiot,” Papalymo snarls.

Yda makes an exaggerated gasp but her fingers tighten around his cock, “Say please,” she purrs.

“ _Please_ stop being a bloody idiot.”

She frowns but she supposes that will do. He licks down his shaft, sucking the honey she had left there. She drags her tongue up and makes sure she cleans every inch of him. Papalymo groans loudly and reaches down to tangle his hand in her hair, tugging her close. It is a lengthy process cleaning the mess she made and by the time she has finished teasing, he is shaking and already so close she can't help but chuckle. She almost feels bad but finally she takes him fully into her mouth. She sucks, bobbing her head and he pulls her hair, trying so very hard to keep his voice down. She reaches up and presses her sticky fingers to his mouth and he is thankful for the help in order to keep quiet. He sucks her fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. It doesn't take long before he can't concentrate and he jerks his hips up, his hand holding her head down. Yda swallows against him, humming slightly and he's seeing stars. She makes sure to lick up every drop of his cum before withdrawing her mouth and her fingers.

She smirks at him, standing up and glancing towards the food they had been trying to make.

“I'm starving. Let's finish this up!”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very vague but still nsfw enough to not put in ley lines

Papalymo has his moments too. Those rare moments when Yda actually put on something _nice_ and he could feel himself slipping. Yda looks good in suits, of course. Papalymo frankly thinks Yda looks good in anything (but he would sooner swallow his staff than admit to this so he simply whispers it under his breath, keeps the knowledge in the back of his head when he catches himself staring). But it is the rare nights when he catches her in something...different.

Like when she wants to catch Skarn and Biggs on a date and so she decides to go incognito. And Papalymo will be the first to tell you: she looks nothing like Yda and it's not a bad thing.

At first he just stares, sputtering before he grinds out, “I-isn't this all a little much?” He hadn't wanted to go along with her plan of _spying_. At least not until he sees her dress, but now, with mouth agape he thinks he would follow her to the ends of the earth so long as she keeps dressing like that.

And a dress it is. Sharlayan Astrologian robes to be exact. Much more flashy than anything he thought her capable of owning, let alone wearing. But Yda had always been full of surprises. He swallows hard, having to shake his head to drag his eyes away from her. The night...would be interesting. He can barely concentrate on Biggs and Skarn because Yda leans forward to try and get a better look and his eyes fall to slight pucker of the top and the flash of cleavage. Her eyes are visible but a thin veil covers her lips. He wants to rip it off.

“You want to order some food?” She asks suddenly and he nearly jumps, pulling his eyes to hers. It takes for more effort than he would ever like to admit to look away from her chest. She motions to the table Skarn and Biggs are at, “They aren't doing anything interesting yet.”

Papalymo's throat is dry and he scoots his chair in, “Just a drink for me,” a pause, “Wine.”

Yda cocks a brow at him, “Wine?”

He nods stiffly and she shrugs. He still can't believe what she is wearing and his robes are all very tight in return. When their food arrives, Papalymo takes a sip of his wine. He knew he would be irrational, might as well be able to blame it on the wine. Yda eats fast, eyes locked on the other table, watching. She doesn't want to miss anything juicy. Papalymo slips his hand under the table. It brushes against her knee and the robes are silk. Yda doesn't look at him but her chewing slows slightly. He takes her in, letting his eyes wander. The robe is tight, framing her small chest and he can see the slight swell of her biceps. Yda is not a scrawny woman but still small enough that the elegant robes do not look too awkward on her muscular body. It flares out at her hips, accenting them and her... He closes his eyes. He's thinking of her ass again. He places his hand on her thigh, taking another, rather large, sip of his wine.

She leans forward and his eyes dart down to her chest again. She clears her throat quietly and he looks up so fast his head spins. Yda chuckles.

“You look tired. Let's get you back to the inn before you fall asleep,” she whispers, leaning in to steal a kiss. She stands and is already halfway gone before Papalymo can react. He chases after her, eyes watching her hips sway. When he finally catches up she glances back at him, “One bed or two?”

Papalymo wrinkles his nose. She knows the answer and she's looking at him the same way he had been taking her in. A hunger is in her eyes, half-lidded and Papalymo knew he looks the same but he couldn't keep his eyes on her face.

“One. _If_ you keep the dress on.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Others would call it 'separation anxiety' but Papalymo would be the last to admit that he _needed_ Yda. No, it was _her_ that needed _him_. He did not, under any circumstance, need _her._ If anything, she needed him! The woman couldn't use an aetheryte on her own, let alone take care of any wounds she might get from being absolutely careless. So, no, he didn't need her and he wouldn't miss her even when Minfilia said she would go to the Adders alone while he was to look up information on Titan. She was a grown woman and she could take care of herself.

“Papalymo,” and her voice is needy and breathless, “I'll only be gone for a few days...”

His hands are tugging at her pants and how did she manage to dress herself everyday with all these straps and her boots are in the way and gods _he will miss her._ He doesn't reply and she reaches down to help him, turning them so she is on top and pushing him into the mattress. She kicks her boots off, kissing his neck as his hands slip underneath her shirt. He pinches her nipple and she hisses. She doesn't waste much time opening his robes, tongue dancing across his skin.

Papalymo digs his nails into her hips, pulling her close. He leans his head back and he doesn't care if she leaves marks. Something to remember her by. They'll be gone by the time she gets back. He wants her. She pulls away from his neck and leans up to kiss him; tender and soft. It's a goodbye. Papalymo deepens it, adds teeth and tongue.

“Yda,” and he won't tell her — can't tell her but he _does_ need her.

Their clothes are barely off, some pieces still clinging to them before she grasps his erection and lines him up with herself. She sinks onto him. Papalymo groans, tossing his head back.

“You better be careful,” he growls, rolling his hips.

“Yeah and don't get any paper cuts while I'm gone,” she mumbles back, panting as she starts to move. She rolls her hips, grinding against him. His nails leave marks on her hips and he wished he would have kept a candle lit so that he could see her better. Her head is bowed, breathless as she reaches a hand down to rub her clit in time with her movement. He has to close his eyes before he loses himself right there and then.

And it would only be a few days, right? The Warrior of Light would defeat Titan and Yda would come back Papalymo would still be here, bored and alone. _Right_?

He tightens his grip on her hips, “All I'm asking is that you think before you act for once...” his voice trembles.

“Are you really trying to lecture me _while I'm fucking you_?” She leans over him, pressing her face to the top of his head.

He growls, deep in the back of his throat and thrusts his hips up to meet hers, “Just promise me, Yda.”

“I'll...” a moan and she shudders, “I'll be just fine. Just...hold down the fort here for me.”

He laughs, breathlessly, “Of course... I think I can handle that.”

“Good, now shut up and let me cum...” she murmurs, her movements becoming fast and erratic. She manages to slide her hand back between them to her clit and he can feel her clench around him. Yda is very close. She is panting in her ear. He hold her close as she starts to shake. She cums with a loud moan and he follows, biting her neck to muffle his own sounds. She has to roll off of him before she collapses on top of him. They are silent for a long while.

Yda yawns, “I can sleep in your room tonight, right? Since you're the one who dragged me in here to say _goodbye_.”

Papalymo rolls his eyes, “I'll barely get any rest with you snoring.”

“And how will you sleep when its so quiet while I'm gone?” she taunts, kissing his cheek and pulling him close. He could live without her being obnoxious for a few days, he thinks _(-but then its the gunshots and the bloodstains and few days become a few weeks and he misses her so so much. The Garlean guards out side his cell snore louder than her)_.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to cope. I cope by writing porn.

“Papalymo?” Yda whispers softly.

He hums dully in response. Yda tightens her arms around him, pressing his back to her chest. Her face is resting on the top of his head and he is curled up against her. The sheets are tangled around them and it's late. Papalymo is trying to let sleep claim him but it wasn't coming easily. Yda is obviously in the same boat. There is something in the air that leaves it feeling heavy and tense. They know something is coming.

“Do you remember what Ala Mhigo looks like?” Yda asks finally. She wants to hear his voice; wants to know that he still remembers what she's fighting for. Papalymo's fingers tighten around hers.

“It was— _is_ beautiful, Yda.”

“We're gonna see it again.”

He pauses, finally opening his eyes, “Yes. Of course. Both of us; together.”

Yda sighs and they both fall silent for a moment, just listening to each other breathe. There is comfort in that. They don't want to think about what the next days would bring because for now, they are home and they are together. But the air is still stale and heavy. Yda hates the stillness and she hates being alone with her thoughts.

She leans down, her lips brushing against Papalymo's ear. She moves against him slightly, placing her hand against his hip. Papalymo shifts pressing back up against her. Yda's hand slips under his shirt, tracing his hipbone with her finger tips. She can feel goosebumps bloom under her actions.

“Can I...distract myself?” She asks quietly. Always one seeking approval and acceptance, especially from him.

Papalymo chuckles breathlessly, “I could welcome a distraction.”

She kisses his ear, dragging her fingers up and across his ribcage. She counts each rib and he presses into her touch. Her hand is a ghost against his skin, soft and teasing. Yda moves her knee between his legs and he rocks back against her slightly. Her hand moves from his side down his leg, smoothing his pants under her palm and then back up to his hip. She massages the skin of his hip slightly and he pushes back into her knee. Papalymo sighs shakily, his breathing heavy as Yda licks his ear. She pulls the tip into her mouth and he shivers.

“It's colder here than in Little Ala Mhigo,” Yda whispers against his ear, her movements pausing ever so slightly as she traces designs against his hip. It takes a moment but Papalymo realizes she's drawing Rhalgr's sign, as she often does when she's deep in thought. It is a practiced symbol, one she has drawn in blood and dirt and now on skin. Papalymo squeezes her hand, their fingers still intertwined with their free hands. Yda kisses his cheek, drawn out of her thoughts quickly, and then lowers her head down to his neck. She follows the ink of his tattoo with her tongue and Papalymo lets his eyes fall shut with a soft moan.

Yda teases him for a few more moments, letting her movements move down from his hips to just barely brushing the inside of his thighs and then all the way down his leg before coming back to knead his hip. There are goosebumps raising under her touch and Papalymo's breathing has grown heavy. He backs himself close against her. She can feel his heartbeat and he can feel the heat radiating from her. She presses her knee more firmly between his legs and he finally gives in with being subtle and grinds himself against it. Yda smirks, a small chuckle easing past her lips. It's a welcomed sound. She moves her hand, just barely tracing the outline of his growing erection through his pants. His hips jerk slightly and he groans.

Slowly, she feels him grow harder under her movements and every so often he will rock himself against her leg. The pace is not frantic but that of a practiced ease. They are comfortable and the distraction is sorely needed. They had missed these nights and these touches. They had missed each other.

“Papalymo?” Yda asks suddenly.

“You really do not need to talk, my dear,” Papalymo sighs, feinting some sort of irritation but Yda knows that is not the case. He knows she hates to talk; she would much rather let her actions do the talking but now, at this moment, Yda knows she has to say _something_.

“You are everything to me.”

Papalymo pauses and he wants to turn around to look at her—to meet her eyes but she squeezes him tightly against her. Papalymo, for once, is left without words. Yda presses a kiss to the back of his neck, then moving around to his tattoo. She moves her lips softly, applying small kisses and nips along the pattern on his skin. He decides its better to just stay silent, leaning into her actions and feeling her every curve pressed against him.

A small hiss escapes his lips when he feels her hand finally on his skin. Her hand sneaks under his shirt again, pressing her palm to his stomach and then grazing across his hipbone. He expects her to slide her hand into his pants next, but instead she simply rubs her hand across the front of his pants. He is nearly fully erect now and has to bite back a whine.

Yda's palm is firm against him and she rocks her knee up against his ass. Papalymo moans, his voice heavy and breathy. Yda picks up her name in his panting and she gives his ear a nip. She presses her hand against him, barely applying enough pressure until he tips his hips up to give himself friction. He strokes him through his pants, memorizing the feel of it. He grits his teeth. His precum begins to gather in a spot on his pants.

He feels his head get light and, then, before he can catch his breath, Yda's hand is in his pants and she wraps her fingers around his bare cock. He jerks his hips up and bites his lip to stifle his groan. She moves her hand slowly and he can feel everyone of her callouses and scars. Her hands are rough and he leans his head back against her, closing his eyes. She rubs circles on his skin, her thumb brushing his head before moving back down to base. She squeezes him and he presses back against her, rubbing against her knee between his legs.

He's overwhelmed; not sure whether to push back against her knee or press his hips up into her hand but Yda doesn't pay attention to his plight. She jerks him off slowly, and he loves it. He has given up biting back his moans and instead just grips Yda's free hand in his. She alternates between rubbing his cock and rubbing his hand, always keeping him on edge. Papalymo has learned to love how casual she is about it and it only makes his heart race harder when she kisses his cheek at the same time she squeezes his member.

Her name escapes his lips in a breathy whine and Yda knows he's close. She drags her thumb over his head, collecting the precum and he grinds himself against her knee. She feels him twitch in her hand and she grips him harder, moving her hand in earnest with fast but even paced jerks.

Papalymo tosses his head back and Yda turns slightly to kiss him; first pulling his lower lip between her teeth and then dragging her tongue over it before, _finally_ , just kissing him. Her lips are soft compared to the roughness of her hands. Papalymo's breath catches in his throat and before Yda can even pull her lips away, he's coming. She catches it all in her hand so it doesn't dirty the sheets and holds him close while his breathing evens.

Without any more words, Yda untangles herself from him and wash up and then returns to the bed. Papalymo has straightened his clothing but his face is still flustered. She pulls him close and he buries his face against his shoulder. They would sleep well tonight, forgetting about the heaviness in the air that speaks of the coming storm. At this time, they had each other.

 


End file.
